The chief beauty about time is that you cannot waste it in advance.
The next year, the next day, the next hour are lying ready for you,
as perfect, as unspoiled, as if you had never wasted or misapplied a single moment in all your life.
You can turn over a new leaf every hour if you choose.
I write to you like a lover
but we have never been in love.
Three AM and I’m sending snapshots
of my heart because you are the only one
who isn’t afraid to look at them.
Sometimes we kiss for no reason.
Sometimes I go crawling into your bed
because I need a space to belong to
and your hands are steadier
than mine have ever been.
Sometimes you get lost
and you wind up on my doorstep,
but it’s okay—
you’re always welcome here.
I tell you all the secrets I’ve been
keeping from myself while you
peel apart at the edges and admit
to all the soft things you pretend
you don’t know how to feel.
We understand each other, here.
My sheets know all our demons.
We don’t touch like that in the daytime,
but at night you are all hands
and I am all teeth
and we are a double-hinged door
slammed open by the wind.
We work that way.
It’s easy as breathing:
two kindred souls wrapped up together
in the same skin.
Best Friends With Benefits, by Ashe Vernon (via vapourise)
I am not Mike Brown. I am white. I am middle class. I am female. I am small. I am not considered a threat. When police see me they see someone who looks like them. They see their mothers, their daughters, their sisters, themselves. I am not at risk of being shot by police for existing while black. I am not at risk of being shot while unarmed. I am not at risk of being shot while armed with nothing more than a BB gun. I am not at risk of being shot for reaching for my wallet. I am privileged.
But I am outraged. And if you aren’t outraged, then you aren’t paying attention. This is America in 2014. This is our reality. It’s so easy to get jaded and to ignore these atrocities, to act like this doesn’t affect us. It’s so easy to get apathetic. In the past it was the youth who protested. Where is the rage of the youth? Where is our rage?
Like I said, I am not Mike Brown. But I am outraged.
I think once you’ve thought about how a person sleeps, how they’d feel pressed up against your back, or your head on their chest, how compatible your bodies would be in the same space of a bed — once you’ve thought about that, you’re fucked.